A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) (17 page)

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Harriet agreed. She stood up again as car lights flashed past the dining room window. “Someone else is here.”

“Everyone’s here who belongs,” Aunt Beth observed.

“Aiden’s home watching Wendy for me,” Carla told them, eliminating the only other person who came to Harriet’s mind.

“I’ll go see who it is,” Jorge said and left the room.

Detective Jane Morse entered a few moments later, followed by Jorge. He had led her through the kitchen, where he’d given her a cup of something warm and a plate of experimental cake.

“I thought I might find you all here,” Morse said when she was seated in the chair Jorge pulled out for her between Harriet and Lauren. “You seem to gather whenever there’s trouble involving one of your own.”

“And your point is?” Lauren prompted her.

“Let her have her cake first,” Aunt Beth said with a stern look at Lauren. “It’s been a long night for her, too.”

Detective Morse gave Aunt Beth a weak smile and dug into her cake.

Morse’s plate was clean and her mug had been refilled with coffee before she spoke.

“Thanks, Jorge, that was dinner, and it was wonderful. I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’m here at nearly midnight. It’s not to try to pry information out of you, if that’s what you think.”

Harriet looked around the table. Judging by the looks on the Loose Threads’ faces, that was exactly what most of them had thought.

“I talked to Mavis and Beth last week, and they filled me in on what’s been happening with Sarah.”

Harriet and Lauren both turned to look at the older women.

“Don’t blame them for anything. They were asking me if I knew of any options you all hadn’t thought of. I couldn’t think of anything you weren’t already pursuing. That’s beside the point now. I came to give you some advice. That is, if I can count on your discretion.”

“Of course,” Connie said.

“Keeping in mind I’m an officer of the court,” Robin reminded her.

“Join the club.” Morse picked up her story. “I shouldn’t be here, but I feel like the good old boys’ club is coming into play.

“Howard Pratt is very well connected in this community. He’s going to want someone to pay for the death of his son, and it’s not clear to me that he cares if it’s the actual person responsible or not. I could see in the faces of the uniforms and first responders that they’re looking at Sarah like she’s a perp instead of a victim.”

“What’s that mean?” Aunt Beth asked.

“It means Sarah is not a blood relative, and in spite of the evidence against her being the killer, Howard could blame her and pull in favors to make sure everyone else blames her, too. At this point, I’m not sure why he’d want to protect the real killer, but my gut is telling me that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“As if that weren’t enough, there’s been so much crime in Foggy Point lately the chief is going to want to put someone away quickly, too, so he’ll go along with Pratt just to close the case.”

“Are we sure she
didn
’t
do it?” Robin asked. Connie glared at her, and she shrugged. “Someone has to play devil’s advocate, and you know I believe everyone deserves a competent defense, no matter what.”

Morse gave Robin a withering stare and then continued. She was showing a side of herself Harriet hadn’t seen before.

“There aren’t any witnesses to the shooting that we know of, but Sarah would have to have gone outside, aimed and fired a gun with one hand, come back in, and then beaten herself up, mangled her orthopedic device and passed out on the bed. All of that is possible but unlikely.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” Harriet asked.

“Sarah’s going to be in the hospital for a day, at least. I know you were working with Georgia at the women’s shelter. I do some volunteer work there, and I know they’re good at getting people from the hospital to the shelter under the noses of abusers. I think she could help you get Sarah out in the same way and hopefully before anyone can bring charges against her.”

Harriet looked intently at the detective.

“Is Sarah in danger?”

“I can’t say. That probably depends on who really killed Seth and why. I’ve probably said too much already.” She looked intently at Harriet and then the rest of the group. “Out of sight, out of mind is sometimes the best way to handle a situation.”

“Got it,” Lauren said.

Harriet leaned back in her chair.

“I’ll call Georgia first thing in the morning.”

Morse reached into her pants pocket and pulled a card out.

“Here’s the twenty-four-hour number for the shelter.”

Harriet took the card and stood up.

“I’ll call her now,” she said.

Aunt Beth stared into her coffee cup.

“I knew I should have tried harder to talk some sense into that girl.”

Jorge reached over and took her hand.

“You can only help someone if they want to be helped. I heard her refuse to listen to you. Don’t blame yourself.”

Harriet cleared her throat, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group.

“Moving forward, Georgia is going to go talk to Sarah at the hospital once she gets out of surgery. We’re assuming they’re going to have to cut into her arm again to replace the damaged hardware. When she’s in a room, Georgia’s people will arrange to have her moved. She said they have nursing staff they can call on. They’ve worked with the hospital before, apparently.”

“I’d have hoped this was an unusual enough case they wouldn’t have medical staff in place already,” Lauren said. “I guess not.”

“Back in the nineteen-nineties, the surgeon general ranked abuse by husbands to be the leading cause of injury to women aged fifteen to forty-four,” Morse said. “I don’t know what the current statistics are, but I can tell you, it’s way too common.”

“What else can we do?” Mavis asked Morse.

“If you know anything else about Seth Sarah may have told you, now would be a good time to share it.”

“Sarah had stopped coming to quilting, so she didn’t tell us much of anything,” Mavis told her.

“We might be able to find out for you,” Harriet said thoughtfully.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” Morse sighed. “I hate to sound like a broken record, but in spite of what I said earlier, you need to let the police do the police work.”

Lauren leaned across her to speak directly to Harriet.

“What did you have in mind?”

Morse shook her head, but she didn’t stop Harriet from speaking.

“When we were touring the senior center the other day, I talked to some of the women in the independent living section about quilting. They were saying they missed their old quilting groups but many of their members had passed away and those left had trouble getting to the fabric store or their families had left their sewing machines behind when they moved them to their smaller quarters. One of them showed me the appliqué she still did, but she has no way to assemble it into a finished quilt.”

DeAnn smiled.

“We could volunteer to start a quilting group there.”

“I like it,” Robin said. “I bet those women know everything that goes on in that place.”

Harriet got up and started pacing again.

“Marjory has a couple of loaner sewing machines. I’ve got two six-foot folding tables.”

“There are a bunch of folding chairs in Aiden’s basement I could bring,” Carla volunteered.

“This is perfect,” Lauren said. “We can get the old ladies to help us make quilts for the women’s shelter and kill two birds with one stone.”

Detective Morse tore a strip off her napkin and twirled it into a rope.

“I hate to say it, but it might work. You have to promise you’ll just quilt with them and let them talk. No snooping. No going into Seth’s office or room or anything like that.”

Harriet smiled at her.

“We would never do that.”

Lauren held her two fingers up in a scout salute.

“On our honor, we promise.”

Detective Morse shook her head.

“I may live to regret this, but I’m going to have to take your word for it.”

“You’re a quilter,” Aunt Beth pointed out.

“Go on,” Morse encouraged.

“You could come and quilt with us after we get set up,” Beth said. “Then you could keep an eye on those of us inclined to stray, and you could hear stuff firsthand.”

“Just let me know if and when you get things set up,” Morse said. “And seriously, as far as your friend Sarah is concerned, don’t take any chances, but time is of the essence.”

“Is there something you aren’t telling us?” Harriet asked. “You seem pretty sure everyone is going to go after Sarah.”

“Let’s just call it a feeling.” Morse stood up. “Thanks again for the cake. I didn’t taste the other options, but I vote for this one.” She pointed at her empty plate.

Jorge rose. “Would you like to take a piece with you?”

“I would love it,” she said with a smile.

He led her back to the kitchen, and a few minutes later the others heard the door in Harriet’s studio open and close. They watched the lights on Detective Morse’s car move down the driveway and disappear.

“Can you meet with the new group on Thursday afternoon?” Harriet asked Lauren over cups of hot cocoa two days later. The two women were sitting in The Steaming Cup.

Since Lauren did her computer programming from her home, she met clients at the Cup when they wanted to meet away from their own offices. She came so often she’d developed the habit of starting most days there.

Technically, it was spring in Foggy Point, but it was coming in like a lion at the moment. Rain slashed at the windows, and although it was eight o’clock in the morning, the pendulum lights that hung over each seating area were on.

Lauren touched the face of her phone, opening her calendar.

“What time?”

“Two o’clock.”

“I can do that. Is everyone else on board?”

“The activities director at the center was all over it. She’s one of the first people I’ve met there who isn’t a family member—at least, as far as I can tell without asking her directly. As for our group, Robin can’t make it, and of course Jenny’s still gone, but everyone else can come.